Martin was too much in the habit of dining from home for his absence to be greatly felt by his mother. Beyond saying several times that she had had no notion he meant to go to the Warboys’ that day, and supposing that he would drink tea at Whissenhurst, she made no comment. Her mind was engrossed by one of the complicated relationships in which she delighted, for she had chanced to read in the Gazette that a son had been born to the wife of a Mr. Henry Lamberhurst, which instantly reminded her that a third cousin of her own had married a Lamberhurst, who, in his turn, was linked by two other marriages with a branch of the Austell family. With the Viscount’s good-natured, if not very valuable, assistance, she beguiled the dinner-hour by pursuing through all their ramifications every offshoot of both families until she reached, with the dessert, the apparently satisfactory conclusion that the unknown Henry Lamberhurst could not be connected with the Lamberhursts she knew.

The Viscount was spared her subsequent recollections of some people she had once met at Ramsgate, and whom she rather fancied to have been in some way related to the family, these being imparted only to Miss Morville, when the two ladies withdrew to one of the saloons. Miss Morville, who had contrived to evade giving an account of her discoveries at Whissenhurst, and who had no wish to be more closely interrogated on the subject, encouraged these tedious reminiscences, and by interpolating a question now and then managed to keep her ladyship’s mind occupied until the appearance of the gentlemen turned her thoughts towards whist.

It was not until the party had broken up that Theo was able to exchange any private conversation with the Earl. He detained him then, as he was about to leave the library in the Viscount’s wake, and said in his blunt way: “One moment, St. Erth! What happened at Whissenhurst today between Martin and Ulverston?”

“A misunderstanding only.”

“Gervase, Martin must not be allowed to call Ulverston out!”

“He will not do so.”

Theo looked shrewdly at him. “He seems to have had that intention. Did you scotch it?”

“Not that precisely. He was not fully informed of the circumstances.”

“I see. In short, Ulverston has offered for Miss Bolderwood, and has been accepted?”

“The engagement is not to be made generally known yet,” the Earl warned him.

“You need not be afraid that I shall spread the news. Well! I guessed as much. I am sorry for Martin. He has not had time to grow accustomed to the knowledge that he is not of sufficient consequence to aspire to the hand of an heiress.”

“Really, Theo, I think you wrong Miss Bolderwood!”

“Never. This is her parents’ doing. I always knew they had set their ambition high. Oh, don’t think I blame them! it was inevitable.” He forced a smile. “I fancy you raised expectations, trifler that you are!”

“Nonsense!”

“My dear Gervase, you cannot be such an innocent as to suppose that Sir Thomas would not have jumped at the chance of seeing his daughter Countess of St. Erth!”

“You sound very like my stepmother,” remarked the Earl. “He gave me no encouragement, nor do I think that his wishing not to announce this engagement immediately shows him to be jumping at the chance of seeing Miss Bolderwood the future Countess of Wrexham.”

“I daresay not. He had hoped for better. The Frants were Earls of St. Erth before ever the Austells rose to the dignity of a barony!”

“Very like my stepmother!” murmured Gervase.

Theo was obliged to laugh, but he said: “However you may disregard the difference you may be sure the Bolderwoods do not! Offer for Marianne before her betrothal to Ulverston is announced, and see what Sir Thomas will say to you!”

“My dear Theo, where have your wits gone begging? It was a case of love at first sight with them both! You must have seen that!”

“Did Martin?”

“Oh, Martin — ! Does he ever see beyond his nose?”

“No, and for that reason I am more than ever sorry for him. I believe he had no suspicion, and the news must have come to him as a severe shock.”

“I am afraid you are right, but he will very soon recover from it. He is at present forswearing women — an excellent sign!”

“Where is he?”

“Unless he did indeed visit his friend Warboys, I don’t know.”

“I hope he has done nothing foolish!” Theo said, a crease appearing between his brows. “He almost knocked me over when he brushed past me on his way out of the house, and looked as though he would have willingly murdered me, had I dared to address him.”

“Poor Theo!” said the Earl lightly. “I’m afraid you were acting as my scapegoat — or possibly Lucy’s!”

“Did you quarrel?” Theo asked, the crease deepening.

“It takes two to make a quarrel.”

“Evasion, Gervase! Was he — ” He broke off, for a quick footstep was heard approaching the library across the Great Hall beyond it, and in another instant Martin had entered the room.

He was looking tired, and pale, his face rather set, and his expressive eyes sombre. He checked on the threshold when he saw his cousin, and ejaculated: “Oh — ! You here!”

“Do you wish to speak to Gervase? I am just off to bed.”

“It doesn’t signify. I have no doubt you know the whole!” He glanced at St. Erth, and then lowered his eyes. “I only wished to say — I was in a rage!”

“Yes, I know,” the Earl replied quietly.

Another fleeting glance was cast up at him. “I think I said — I don’t know: I do say things, in a rage, which — which I don’t mean!”

“I did not regard it, and you need not either.”

Martin seemed to force his rigid mouth to smile. “No. Well — mighty good of you to take it so! Of course I know it was not your fault. Good-night!”

He went quickly away, and for a full minute there was silence in the library. The Earl snuffed a guttering candle, and said: “Do you mean to return to Stanyon when you have done all your business at Evesleigh, Theo, or do you go on immediately to Studham?”

“I believe I may postpone my journey,” Theo said slowly.

“Indeed! May I know why?”

Theo looked frowningly at him. “It might be best if I were to remain at Stanyon — for the present.”

“Oh, are you at that again? I have told you already that I don’t need a watch-dog, my dear fellow!”

“And still I should prefer to remain!”

“Why? when you have heard Martin make me an apology?”

Theo met the deep blue eyes full. “In all the years I have known Martin,” he said deliberately, “I have never heard him utter an apology, or even acknowledge a fault!”

“My regenerating influence!” said Gervase flippantly.

“I should be happy to think so.”

“But you don’t?”

“No,” Theo said. “I don’t!”

“Nevertheless, Theo, you will oblige me by going to Evesleigh tomorrow, as you have planned to do.”

“Very well. But I wish this business of Ulverston’s had not been disclosed!” Theo said.

The breakfast-party on the following morning was attended, inevitably, by a certain measure of constraint. It was the first time Martin and the Viscount had met since their encounter at Whissenhurst, and even Mr. Clowne seemed to be conscious of the tension. His nervous platitudes filled the gap between the exchange of cool greetings between these two and the entrance of the Earl, who made his appearance in a coat of such exquisite cut that the Viscount exclaimed at it, demanding to be told the name of the tailor who had made it. “Not Scott!” he said.

“No, Weston,” responded the Earl. “Martin, what’s this I hear of kestrels in the West Wood?”

He could have said nothing that would have made Martin more certainly forget, for the moment, his injuries. The dark eyes lit; Martin replied: “So Pleasley says! He swears there is a pair, and believes they may be nesting in one of the old magpies’ nests. I know the place.”

“Too early in the year, isn’t it?” asked the Viscount.

“I have known them to start breeding as early as March,” Martin said. “It is not usual, I own, but it is very possible.” He turned his head to address his brother. “I have said I’ll ride to Roxmere this morning, to look at some likely young ‘uns, but I mean to take a gun out this afternoon, and try for them.”

“It is sad that the kestrel, or as I like to call it, the windhover, should be so destructive,” said Mr. Clowne. “To see them hovering above, as though suspended, is a pretty sight.”

“I question whether they are so destructive as people suppose,” remarked Theo.

“Good God, if we were to have a pair of them breeding in the West Wood we should not have a pheasant or a partridge chick left!” Martin exclaimed.

“I fancy you would find, if you could observe them closely, that they subsist mostly on field-mice. Had you said sparrow-hawks,now — !”

In refuting this heresy, and in recalling to Theo’s memory various incidents which seemed to support his own theory, Martin for a little while forgot his care, and talked with an animation which would not have led anyone to suppose that he was suffering all the more severe pangs of unrequited love. He looked as though he had not slept well, but he ate a large breakfast, and only towards the end of it remembered that his affections had been blighted, and that his archenemy sat opposite to him, unconcernedly consuming cold beef. The cloud descended again on to his brow, and he relapsed into silence; but when he rose from the table, and the Earl called after him: “Keep your eyes open for anything that might suit me at Roxmere!” he paused in the doorway, and replied quite cordially: “If you wish it, but I don’t think Helston has much to show me but young ‘uns.”